The link will take you to a diary entry of one of the bloggers on Street Prophets. Please note that the diary entry deals with the death of the writer's father. Despite the sadness of the circumstances, I think you will find the entry life affirming in many ways.
http://www.streetprophets.com/story/2008/7/19/141540/665
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
What Not to Say During Communion
Yes, it's time for another pastor story.
Pastor D likes to say things to me just as I'm accepting the Communion wafer so that I'll either laugh, choke on the wafer, snort, or do some combination of all three. When he actually behaves and simply offers the body of Christ, I usually eye him suspiciously, which makes him extremely paranoid.
I had my hair done Thursday, and yes, I dyed the hell out of my gray. I now have mahogany colored hair. There's quite a bit of red in it, but it's mostly my natural dark brown shade. So today, as I approached Pastor D at the altar, I got this:
"Wow. Your hair...*pause*"
(My eyes narrow at this point.)
"No, it looks good," he hastens to add.
(I'm waiting for the inevitable.)
"What can Brown do for you?" he singsongs before racing into "Accept the body of Christ given for your sins."
Only our pastor could quote a UPS tag line during Communion.
D'you see what I have to put up with? ;-)
Pastor D likes to say things to me just as I'm accepting the Communion wafer so that I'll either laugh, choke on the wafer, snort, or do some combination of all three. When he actually behaves and simply offers the body of Christ, I usually eye him suspiciously, which makes him extremely paranoid.
I had my hair done Thursday, and yes, I dyed the hell out of my gray. I now have mahogany colored hair. There's quite a bit of red in it, but it's mostly my natural dark brown shade. So today, as I approached Pastor D at the altar, I got this:
"Wow. Your hair...*pause*"
(My eyes narrow at this point.)
"No, it looks good," he hastens to add.
(I'm waiting for the inevitable.)
"What can Brown do for you?" he singsongs before racing into "Accept the body of Christ given for your sins."
Only our pastor could quote a UPS tag line during Communion.
D'you see what I have to put up with? ;-)
With Charity for All
The past has been on my mind lately, no doubt because of the 4th of July holiday. Independence Day, Veteran's Day, and Memorial Day bring up thoughts of my paternal grandfather who fought in WWII; my father's two decades of military service on the seas; and cousins, coworkers, and good friends who have served in more recent times. They all have my admiration and respect. More importantly, they have my gratitude.
I'm lucky to be an American. My mother's people came here from Spain and settled in Texas. My father's people came here from Scotland and England and settled in the Eastern Shore areas of Maryland and Delaware. Of all of us, only my paternal ancestors descended from the Nanticoke tribe could claim to be Americans. The rest of us are immigrants.
The current brouhaha over immigration confounds and saddens me. Yes, I understand that we have waaaay too many people who came into this country without the proper legal documentation and without going through the proper process. I understand that from a population standpoint, our infrastructure is strained to accommodate everyone who needs health care, housing, education. I understand that there's friction about assimilation, about learning English, about being loyal to this country. There are lots of issues and problems, lots of talk, lots of finger-pointing. I get it.
I also get that a lot of these immigrants came here for a chance at a better life.
Which is what some brave folks did 232 years ago.
**
I recently read a fascinating article about Abraham Lincoln. What I knew about him before I read the article was the standard stuff of history classes. I didn't know he struggled with what's now known as depression. Or that he really didn't know his purpose in life until middle age. He taught himself trigonometry so he could work as a surveyor, then read Blackstone so he could practice law. He memorized large parts of the Bible and Shakespeare. He learned Euclidean geometry for fun. He's described in the article as a "compulsive scribbler, forever jotting down phrases, notes, and ideas on scraps of paper, then squirreling the notes away in a coat pocket, a desk drawer---or sometimes his hat---where they would collect until he found a use for them in a letter, a speech, or a document." I love that little bit of trivia because it means that I have something---however small---in common with Abraham Lincoln: a love for words.
And then there's this: "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are equal." I can't read that without getting goosebumps.
And this: "With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan---to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations."
'A lasting peace.' I could go for that.
I'm lucky to be an American. My mother's people came here from Spain and settled in Texas. My father's people came here from Scotland and England and settled in the Eastern Shore areas of Maryland and Delaware. Of all of us, only my paternal ancestors descended from the Nanticoke tribe could claim to be Americans. The rest of us are immigrants.
The current brouhaha over immigration confounds and saddens me. Yes, I understand that we have waaaay too many people who came into this country without the proper legal documentation and without going through the proper process. I understand that from a population standpoint, our infrastructure is strained to accommodate everyone who needs health care, housing, education. I understand that there's friction about assimilation, about learning English, about being loyal to this country. There are lots of issues and problems, lots of talk, lots of finger-pointing. I get it.
I also get that a lot of these immigrants came here for a chance at a better life.
Which is what some brave folks did 232 years ago.
**
I recently read a fascinating article about Abraham Lincoln. What I knew about him before I read the article was the standard stuff of history classes. I didn't know he struggled with what's now known as depression. Or that he really didn't know his purpose in life until middle age. He taught himself trigonometry so he could work as a surveyor, then read Blackstone so he could practice law. He memorized large parts of the Bible and Shakespeare. He learned Euclidean geometry for fun. He's described in the article as a "compulsive scribbler, forever jotting down phrases, notes, and ideas on scraps of paper, then squirreling the notes away in a coat pocket, a desk drawer---or sometimes his hat---where they would collect until he found a use for them in a letter, a speech, or a document." I love that little bit of trivia because it means that I have something---however small---in common with Abraham Lincoln: a love for words.
And then there's this: "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are equal." I can't read that without getting goosebumps.
And this: "With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan---to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations."
'A lasting peace.' I could go for that.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
A better day...
...than yesterday, that's for sure. For one thing, the headache from hell has more or less evaporated. I slept better last night than I have in a few days, and when I woke up this morning, I didn't feel like I'd been beaten, dredged through flour, and fried. So yeah...that's an improvement!
We had the wildly anticipated tech refresh at work today, which meant that roughly 70% of the new computers didn't work. I spent most of my morning helping other people go through their configuration set up and troubleshooting all the stuff our crackerjack IT team managed to screw up. Here's a prime example of your tax dollars at work: The gal in charge of coordinating the tech refresh told everyone over and over not to call her about their computer issues; they had to send an e-mail so she would have a documentation trail. Well, that's great...unless that sterling IT team forgot to load the freakin' e-mail program, which is what happened to one very short-tempered woman on my floor. By the time I got to my desk and started configuring my own brand new (so they say) laptop, it was nearly lunch time.
My new laptop is fast. That's the good news. The bad news is that my Excel program is, well, possessed by aliens. I use Excel a lot, so I'm going to have to call our national help desk tomorrow and spend, oh, at least 20 to 30 minutes on the phone with them in order to get them to fix the problem.
Fun stuff, no?
Despite DH's bad summer cold, we had a good, long bike ride tonight. It's not muggy at all, and the sunset has turned the puffy white clouds into pink lace. Wonder of wonders, I've finally found an insect repellent that actually repels mosquitoes: Burt's Bees all-natural bug-be-gone (not the real name, but you get the drift). It smells like mint and some other pleasantly sharp herb. I think I smell rather tasty, but apparently, the mosquitoes do not agree. Huzzah!!
Funny but true church story: During Bible study, Pastor D was talking about the altar guild at his old church. The head of the altar guild was very particular and had special gloves that the ladies used to carry the communion silver. He said that if she'd had her way, the guild ladies would have worn special aprons, special gloves, and special booties. Well, I heard the man say "special boobies." And I wasn't the only one who heard that. Chaplain Crandall reared back in his chair about the same time I did. "What did he say?" I asked DH about the same time Chappy blurted, "Did he say 'boobies'?" He heard me snickering and turned to me to confirm that yes, I heard 'boobies' too. "We're in the same gutter!" Chappy exclaimed while his wife looked mortified. So of course, I had to 'fess up to Pastor D about what Chappy and I thought we heard. He regarded me gravely as I told the story, then pronounced me beyond redemption. And then he cackled.
Sheesh. I'm gettin' grief from all sides these days. ;)
So tomorrow is hump day, and it will be one of those short days for me because I have to drive to M'head to see the doc. I'm thinking my car will suddenly veer into Starbucks for no apparent reason on the way back to work. It might even veer over to Panera Bread for a salad. I'm just sayin'....
We had the wildly anticipated tech refresh at work today, which meant that roughly 70% of the new computers didn't work. I spent most of my morning helping other people go through their configuration set up and troubleshooting all the stuff our crackerjack IT team managed to screw up. Here's a prime example of your tax dollars at work: The gal in charge of coordinating the tech refresh told everyone over and over not to call her about their computer issues; they had to send an e-mail so she would have a documentation trail. Well, that's great...unless that sterling IT team forgot to load the freakin' e-mail program, which is what happened to one very short-tempered woman on my floor. By the time I got to my desk and started configuring my own brand new (so they say) laptop, it was nearly lunch time.
My new laptop is fast. That's the good news. The bad news is that my Excel program is, well, possessed by aliens. I use Excel a lot, so I'm going to have to call our national help desk tomorrow and spend, oh, at least 20 to 30 minutes on the phone with them in order to get them to fix the problem.
Fun stuff, no?
Despite DH's bad summer cold, we had a good, long bike ride tonight. It's not muggy at all, and the sunset has turned the puffy white clouds into pink lace. Wonder of wonders, I've finally found an insect repellent that actually repels mosquitoes: Burt's Bees all-natural bug-be-gone (not the real name, but you get the drift). It smells like mint and some other pleasantly sharp herb. I think I smell rather tasty, but apparently, the mosquitoes do not agree. Huzzah!!
Funny but true church story: During Bible study, Pastor D was talking about the altar guild at his old church. The head of the altar guild was very particular and had special gloves that the ladies used to carry the communion silver. He said that if she'd had her way, the guild ladies would have worn special aprons, special gloves, and special booties. Well, I heard the man say "special boobies." And I wasn't the only one who heard that. Chaplain Crandall reared back in his chair about the same time I did. "What did he say?" I asked DH about the same time Chappy blurted, "Did he say 'boobies'?" He heard me snickering and turned to me to confirm that yes, I heard 'boobies' too. "We're in the same gutter!" Chappy exclaimed while his wife looked mortified. So of course, I had to 'fess up to Pastor D about what Chappy and I thought we heard. He regarded me gravely as I told the story, then pronounced me beyond redemption. And then he cackled.
Sheesh. I'm gettin' grief from all sides these days. ;)
So tomorrow is hump day, and it will be one of those short days for me because I have to drive to M'head to see the doc. I'm thinking my car will suddenly veer into Starbucks for no apparent reason on the way back to work. It might even veer over to Panera Bread for a salad. I'm just sayin'....
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